


Date Night

by DrMarthaJones



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family Fluff, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-16 07:06:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrMarthaJones/pseuds/DrMarthaJones
Summary: When someone asks May out on a date, Peter isn't sure how he feels about it, and certainly doesn't want to give his advice when she asks for it. When the date arrives, Peter is there to interrogate him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I realised that when I uploaded this, it was missing a section about Ben in the 2nd chapter, but I've fixed it now!

“Hey,” Aunt May called as she marched into the apartment after work. “How was school?”

            Peter looked up from the web slingers he was fiddling with. He’d moved into the kitchen to have a little more space while he tinkered. Now that he didn’t have to hide, he had a lot more time to work on his gadgets. May had even gotten him some new tools, and he’d vastly improved the web slingers and fluid, and made improvements to his suit.

            “Yeah, it was fine,” Peter said, before turning back to look for a screwdriver with the right head. “How was work?”

            “Oh, good. Actually, something interesting happened. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

            Something in May’s voice made Peter look up again. She sounded like she was blasé and breezy, as if she couldn’t care less, but her voice had gone deeper, and she wasn’t quite looking at him. This was important. She had used the same tone of voice when she’d tried to talk to him about sex, and drinking. It made Peter nervous for what he was in for now.

            “Yeah, what’s up?” Peter said, screwing the back onto his web slinger as hard as he could.

            May dropped her work bag and plopped into the kitchen chair across from him. She picked up his other web slinger and looked it over.

            “There’s this new guy at work…” she started, which wasn’t at all what Peter expected to hear. “I’ve been showing him the ropes, just trying to be nice, you know. We get along,” May said, really, really casually. Suspiciously casually.

            “Okay,” Peter said slowly.

            Finally, May met his eye. “He asked me on a date.”

            “Oh,” said Peter. He sat back in his chair faster than should have been possible and felt his eyes go wide.

            May was looking at him, her lips pressed tightly together, and when she saw his reaction her eyes widened too. She ran her left hand through her long hair, brushing it out of her face, and something popped into his head.  

            “Um, is he blind?” Peter said.

            May’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” she said, and then she burst out laughing. “I may be _your_ aunt, but to other people, I’d like to think I’m still a bit of a catch.”

            Peter realized what that had sounded like and laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He was well aware that people found his aunt attractive – from Tony to Delmar to that random Thai restaurant employee – people had made remarks even when Ben was alive. “I _meant_ didn’t he see your wedding ring?” Even though it had been years since Ben’s death, May still wore it.

            May looked down at her hand as if in surprise. “Oh,” she said. “Well, he knows I’m widowed. He saw the picture of Ben on my desk and asked about it.”

            “Oh, right,” Peter said. _Be normal, be normal be normal_ , he chanted in his head. He gulped. “So…what’s his name?” he said in a sing-song voice.

            “Ahh…his name is Paul, and he’s just moved here from Michigan,” May started going red as she spoke. Like bright, tomato red.

            “Paul?” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s such a…” He trailed off. What he was thinking was ‘that’s such a ‘step-dad’ name’, but he definitely didn’t want to go down that conversational path. “…great name.” Peter finished, tilting his head and grinning.

            May rolled her eyes. She was still bright red. “He’s in Research, and he’s from Ann Arbor.”

            “Paul from Ann Arbor. He sounds fascinating,” Peter teased, and it made May chuckle again, but he was trying to hide how uncomfortable he was. May usually feigned obliviousness when men showed an interest in her, and he’d once overheard her telling her friend Irene, who was over for a ‘girl’s night’, that part of the reason she still wore her wedding ring was to fend off men. It seemed to be Irene’s mission in life to set May up. At one of these girl’s nights, Peter and Ned had cracked up in his room when they heard a slightly tipsy Irene threaten, “If I hear you say you just need to focus on raising Peter one more time, I’m going to pour red wine all over this couch.” Irene would be thrilled with this turn of events.

            To be honest, Peter hadn’t given much thought to the fact that May might date or even marry again. Even the thought made him sick to his stomach. To him, she was just Aunt May. To him, she was still married to Ben. They were Aunt May and Uncle Ben, they had raised him; he had tottered down the aisle at their wedding as ring bearer, and now he went with her every year to his grave. So now Peter felt woefully unprepared to be having this conversation.

            “I wanted to get your thoughts, Peter,” May said quietly.

            Peter chuckled with nervousness. He twirled his screwdriver through his fingers. “My thoughts? Why should that matter? I don’t even know this Paul from Accounting or whatever.”

            “Research!” May insisted. “So, you’re not…upset? You don’t think it’s…”

            “No,” Peter said quickly, to cover up how much he definitely thought it was weird. He desperately wanted to be able to say, ‘That’s great, have fun, but the city awaits’ and leap out the window, but his web slingers were still dismantled on the table. “I mean, who wouldn’t want their aunt going out with the type of guy who sees a picture of her dead husband and thinks ‘score, she’s single.’” Peter put down his screwdriver.

            May chuckled again, but she was still bright red. “I was kinda _hoping_ you would freak out…”

            “I’m not freaking out,” Peter said, shaking his head before he realized that was a strange thing for her to say.

            “Because then I wouldn’t have to go.” May was fiddling with the webslinger in her hands.

“Um, if you don’t want to go, then I have an idea…” Peter said sarcastically.

            “No, it’s not that I don’t _want_ to go…” May said slowly. “I just feel really, really guilty, because…I kinda do.” Finally, she looked up at him and she looked really apprehensive, really worried what he would think of her.

            Peter gulped again. He tried to swallow down how uncomfortable he was. “Don’t feel guilty…” he said, although that wasn’t a particularly helpful thing to say. He took a deep breath and mentioned the person neither of them had wanted to bring up. “I mean, I don’t think you need me to tell you that Ben wouldn’t want you to be…like…lonely and miserable forever.”

            To his utter astonishment May burst out laughing.

            “Lonely and miserable? Is that what you think my life is? Why would I be lonely, I have great friends, I love my job, I have you! I don’t wanna…” here May stumbled over her words. “…go out with him because I’m lonely. I want to go because…Oh, I don’t know.”

            “So…do you like like him?” Peter said in his jokey voice, but it still came out wrong.

            May tried to scoff. “Peter, I’m not a teenager.” But she had gotten, if at all possible, even redder.

            “Right,” Peter said. He wasn’t sure if that response made things better or worse. He was staring at the webslingers instead of at May, and for a moment they were both quiet and avoiding each other’s eye contact. Finally, Peter forced himself to look at his aunt. Her hair was falling back in her face, and she was still bright red. She was twisting the web slinger feverishly in her hands and a piece broke off and clattered onto the table; May dropped the webslinger. Peter had to say something.

            “Well, then, you should go…” Peter found himself saying. He hadn’t given his mouth permission to say _that._

            “I don’t know,” May said slowly. “You were my out. I mean, I haven’t gone on a first date in over twenty years. And…and is it fair to him…I mean, why would I date, when I’ve already found the love of my life?”

            Peter licked his lips. “That’s not the only reason people date. I mean, if I were to ask some girl out that I liked,” (he tried to ignore the familiar, slovenly face that popped unbidden into his head), “it wouldn’t be because I want to find someone to marry or be the love of my life, it would be…because I think it’d be fun.”

            May smiled properly now, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t complain about that.

            “I guess I should call him and tell him I’ll go.” May said, pushing herself off the table.

            Peter sat up. “Wait, what? You haven’t given him an answer yet?”

            “Well no, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go.”

            “So, what did you say when he asked you out then?” Peter cried.

            “I said I needed to think about it and I’d get back to him.”

            “May!” Peter yelled.

            May pulled a face. “What?!”

            “Call him! Put the man out of his misery.”

            “Okay, okay!” May chuckled, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She ran her hand through his hair as she passed, stopping just long enough to say seriously, “Thank you, honey.” He heard her as she made her way to her room, saying “Oh, hi, um, Paul? Yeah, hi,” before the door closed.

            Peter stared at his gadgets, not sure what to think. He licked his lips and slowly picked up the webslinger May had broken and started reassembling it. But his hands were too distracted, and he dropped it again. He looked up and his eyes fell on a photo hanging on the banister between the kitchen and the living room, one of him, Ben and May at Coney Island when he was ten. _That_ was his family, and he was very sure he did _not_ want to see May happy with anyone else. He knew that was selfish, and stupid, but it was true. May hadn’t been on a date since Ben’s death and he really wanted it to stay that way. He should have said something. But then his eyes fell on another photo hanging above the first one: one of him, Mum and Dad posing behind the cake at his fourth birthday, and he gulped. He loved May and Ben as much as was humanly possible (unlike some of the kids in his grade, he didn’t mind admitting that), but that certainly didn’t change how much he loved Mum and Dad. They would always be his family, too. And loving May and Ben had never changed that. And he thought of Mr. Stark, and how his respect and admiration for him hadn’t changed how much he missed and loved Ben. If it was that way for him, surely it would be the same for May.

            Feeling better, Peter picked up his web slinger and began to fix it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter takes it upon himself to interrogate May's date

Peter had been parked in front of the TV for ages. A cop drama was on, and he was only half paying attention. It was Friday night, Ned had been grounded, and he wasn’t planning on going out on patrol till later. Peter was lounging across the sofa, snacking, texting Ned (whose Mum had forgotten to take his phone), and browsing insta, between glances at the TV. He was actually enjoying having a rare quiet evening; and besides, he had wanted to be in to see May off tonight.

            Behind him, Peter heard the bathroom door open and May’s footsteps in the hall. Peter glanced at his phone. “Isn’t he supposed to be here in like 10 minutes?” he yelled without looking up.

            “I know!” May yelled back. Peter craned his neck over the back of the sofa as she poked her head – still wrapped in a towel – around the corner. “I don’t know what to wear – I haven’t done this in 20 years. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

            “Well, don’t ask me,” Peter said. “Isn’t that what Irene is for?” he said.

            “Oh, she picked something out for me, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to wear it. _You_ know Irene.” May’s head disappeared around the corner as Peter pulled a grossed-out face. Her bedroom door slammed and in a moment, he heard the hairdryer.

            Peter returned to his phone and his show (which he was disliking more and more, considering the superheroes (poorly disguised take-offs of Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers) in it kept being portrayed as foiling the police’s plans and causing havoc), but sure enough, barely ten minutes later there was a hesitant knock on the door.

            Peter leapt over the back of the couch with super human speed. “I’ll get it!” he yelled, forgetting, momentarily, that May did not have super hearing and probably did not hear the knock over the sound of the hairdryer. He wanted to inspect this guy for himself.

            Peter flung open the door to reveal a tall man in a clean-cut black suit, with dark hair, who looked in his mid-fifties. He still had his hand raised to knock and he looked like he had been trying to arrange his features into a confident expression, but when the door was opened, he instead let his eyebrows fly up and a look of confusion sprung on to his face.

            “Hello,” said Peter, in a voice he hoped was welcoming. He raised his eyebrows and kept his hand on the open door; he didn’t want to seem _too_ welcoming.

            “Yes, I’m sorry, I might be in the wrong…” Peter saw the man’s eyes dart to the number on the door. “I’m looking for May Parker?” he blathered.

            “Yeah, sure,” Peter answered, before leaning back and calling into the apartment in a sing-song voice, “Ma-ay…there’s someone at the door for you.” He turned back to Paul. “She’ll be right out.”

            Paul was frowning at him. So far, Peter was not impressed.

            “I’m sorry, but…you are?” Paul said.

            Peter blinked at him. This guy really was an idiot. Or…had May not mentioned him?

            At that moment, May came stumbling out of her bedroom, still tying back her hair into a ponytail. They both turned towards her.

            “Paul, hi,” she said, flashing a smile, but Peter could tell it was a bit strained. “So sorry, I never got a chance to mention, but uh…I have a kid.” At that, she pointed at Peter, as if who the kid was needed clarifying. Peter pressed his lips together into a thick smile and waggled his fingers at Paul.

            “Ah,” said Paul, still looking stunned.

            “So, Paul, Peter, Peter, this is Paul,” May said; she was nervous, Peter could tell from the tone in her voice, and she met his eyes, eager for him to approve.

            Paul was the one to hold out his hand first. “Peter, great to meet you,” he said, in what was clearly meant to be a hearty voice.

            “You too, Paul,” Peter grasped his hand firmly, hard even – perhaps a hint harder than necessary – and gave it one shake. Paul noticed.

            “That’s a firm shake you got there, Peter,” Paul chuckled. “Do you wrestle at school?”

            “You could say that,” Peter said. “It’s more like mixed martial arts. Or, like, street fighting.”

            May glared at him.

            “Two minutes,” May said to Paul. “Peter, don’t feel you need to stick around…”

            “Oh, I will,” Peter said, and they had a silent conversation as she left the room – ‘Don’t be weird’ May’s face told him, and Peter just gave her a smirk.

            “So, Paul,” Peter said, when she’d left the room. “You moved from Michigan? What brought you here?” He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, assuming the position of giving Paul the once-over.

            Paul actually gulped. “Well, the company transferred me, and uh…well, New York, you know? Who would pass up a chance to live here?” Paul chuckled awkwardly. Peter did not take pity on him and stayed silent.

            “So, uh,” Paul tried again. “Street fighting? That’s not a school sport, surely?”

            “Nope,” said Peter.

            “Well, I bet you could beat me in a fight.” Paul chuckled at his own joke.

            “Yeah,” Peter laughed too. Then he stopped and looked Paul in the eye. “I could.” Peter held Paul’s gaze humourlessly until Paul looked away uncomfortably. This was pretty fun.

             He heard May’s bedroom door open and she came down the hall in a fancy purple blouse, dark jeans and carrying a pair of black heels. Peter was struck with a sudden memory of the last time May had worn this exact outfit, at least that Peter could remember. It had been only months before Ben died, and May was heading out for an evening with Irene and some other girlfriends – most of whom had known Mum back in the day. Ben had been bothering Peter while he was trying to build a remote-control car, he remembered that much, and May had come running out of their room, grabbing her purse and yelling instructions to Ben about dinner. Ben had looked her over, pressed his hand to his chest, said “ooof,” and fallen over the back of the couch onto Peter in mock infatuation. May had rolled her eyes and blushed and Peter had been embarrassed, but now he wished he had stopped and paid attention to one of their last goodbye kisses.

            Paul’s weedy voice pulled Peter out of his memories as May started pulling on her shoes. She had said something to Peter about leftover takeout in the fridge.

            “You look lovely,” Paul was stammering. May made her modest face. Paul glanced at Peter to find him raising his eyebrows.

            “Your son is doing a good job looking out for you,” he said. So, he had picked up on Peter’s not so subtle threat. Peter felt smug and couldn’t help but grin.

            “Oh, um, he’s…” said May, all flustered. She was about to correct Paul. Peter had hated people making that mistake when he was younger; he felt like it was an insult to Mum and Dad. He knew Ben was upset when he used to make them correct people, when he used to make them explain they were not his parents, but May felt the exact same way as Peter did. But now Peter interrupted her.

            “Yeah, I am,” he said firmly. He held Paul’s gaze again, until Paul coughed and cleared his throat. Then he turned away, smiling to himself. “Well, have fun,” he said in a sing-song voice.

            May was blinking at him in surprise. Then she smiled with the corner of her mouth. “Alright, kiddo.” She grabbed his head in both her hands, dragging him toward her, and kissed his forehead. “I don’t care if I’m not back, curfew still stands, capiche?”

            Peter nodded as innocently as he could muster. “I will find out,” she warned, and then mouthed, “from the news.”

            “Got it,” Peter promised.

            She released his head and grabbed her coat.

            “It was nice to meet you, Peter,” Paul said as he held the door open for May.

            Peter thought of making a "Have her home by 11” joke but couldn’t actually bring himself to say it.

            “Love you,” May called from the hall.

            “Love you,” Peter answered before the door swung closed.

Alone, Peter gave himself a little shiver. That was totally weird. He needed to clear his head. Smiling to himself, Peter headed to his room to grab the Spiderman suit.


End file.
